


Sleep

by LupinsGirlSA



Category: Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms, Sherlock Holmes - Arthur Conan Doyle
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-20
Updated: 2018-12-20
Packaged: 2019-09-23 15:41:18
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 271
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17083097
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LupinsGirlSA/pseuds/LupinsGirlSA
Summary: I find one thinks far more clearly after a good night's rest.





	Sleep

**Author's Note:**

> Just a tiny something I've been wanting to write for a while. Please be kind, it's my first fic for this category.

A soft sound. His sleep addled brain helpfully supplies ‘intruder’, then ‘bare feet on hardwood’ before finally settling on ‘Sherlock’ just as the door to his bedroom swings open.

The pitiful figure in the doorway easily softens the heart. 

Painfully thin (although he is certainly in no position to pass judgement), the boy appears to consist mostly of odd angles. His nightshirt may have fit a man of a more general build quite well, but as it was it put is over long limbs and knobbly knees on somewhat comic display.

Sherlock pads over to the side of the bed to stare down at him, a silent query.

He does not need to hear it, they have performed this dance a hundred times over. 

He sighs.

“We are not children now, Sherlock.”

His actions belie his words as he shifts his massive bulk to one side to make a space on the mattress.

Sherlock wordlessly crawls beneath the covers. He fumbles about until he is lying pressed up against his side, with his head resting in the crook of his arm. 

One hand emerges, spider-like, to grip a fistful of his pyjama top as if preventing an escape.

He brings a heavy arm up, folds it gently around a narrow waist.

“Sleep, brother mine, sleep… I find one thinks far more clearly after a good night's rest.”

He stares at the ornate ceiling, breathing in Pears soap and tobacco. He resists the urge to look at the time, instead, he closes his eyes and attempts to breathe in harmony with his brother, waiting for the night to claim them once more.


End file.
